


I turned my face away and dreamed about you (Fairytale of the Fright Zone)

by Hemogobbler



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Band!Cat, Childhood Friends, Christmas Crackers, Crimmus, Dancing, F/F, Fake-date, Fluff and Humor, Forehead Kisses, Gay Panic, Holidays, Lawyer!Adora, Touching, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Xmas Charity Gala, a lil entrapdak, and sw being a terrible mom, bc its catradora they can't help it, but what else is new!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:34:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22151863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hemogobbler/pseuds/Hemogobbler
Summary: Adora needs a date for her company's lavish charity gala, and who better than her oldest, bestest friend in the world? Finding each other again was always a possibility, but the circumstances of such a reunion leave Catra with questions she had put behind her a long time ago.They quickly find the gravity of each other irresistible, but it'll take a Christmas Miracle™ for them to make it through a party as pretend lovers while they're busy grappling with their true feelings.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Entrapta/Hordak (She-Ra)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 169





	I turned my face away and dreamed about you (Fairytale of the Fright Zone)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jeserai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeserai/gifts).



“How do I look?” 

A loaded question, for sure. 

Adora steps out of the dressing room in a long-sleeved wine-red dress and something gets caught in Catra’s throat. As if Adora has ever been anything but perfect. In spite of the fog that surrounded Catra’s earliest memories, Adora--her face, her shape, her spirit--throughout years of distance, always settled gently on her mind, the lovely lighthouse that guided her heart over warm seas.

And now, here she is, close enough to touch, to listen to and make laugh again, and the old flame that rises could keep her cozy all winter.

“You look like a carpet fucked a nerd.” 

Adora goes redder than all the fairy lights hanging around the mirrors and snorts. Crossing her arms, she takes in Catra’s chosen attire: a handsome, roguish two-piece suit with mauve accents adorning her blazer’s trimmings, a loose top button, and popped black bowtie. Her shaggy dark hair, full and wild and free, frames her freckled face in alluring shadows which are pierced by sharp blue and yellow eyes.

“You look like if the monopoly man OD’d on catnip,” Adora offers.

“Then we’re gonna turn heads tonight.” Catra grins, and Adora shares her enthusiasm, taking her hands. 

“Hey, seriously, thank you for doing this, Catra... it means everything. You wouldn’t believe how stressed I was getting until you came along.”

Adora moves to touch her hair and then stops. Her hand goes to Catra’s bowtie, instead, in an attempt to tie it. Catra takes her hand and shakes her head, _‘no’_.

“It’s better untied… and you know me, I love ruining parties. Remember the New Years’ we found Bea’s creepy hidden chamber full of spiders and wine?”

Full of energy and seemingly-ancient alcohol, they had kissed at thirteen, Catra remembers, more vivid than any of the New Years’ since. A spider fell on Adora’s head. Catra thought muffling half of her scream with her face was the best option to avoid Beatrix, Adora’s guardian, catching them in the act. 

To Catra’s credit, it worked. Adora had only said “good idea” in the tense silence that followed. Catra figures that Adora, and, to a lesser degree, Beatrix, never guessed a thing since.

“That stuff was gross.” Catra clears her throat.

“Yeah...” Adora thinks to herself. Catra wants in. 

Is she thinking about the same thing Catra is? About how after going their ways for so long, she only found out Adora was as gay as her yesterday? About this suspiciously-timed plea for company that she insisted was only for one night? Could this be real?

“I like your dress. For real.” Catra feels smooth, drawing Adora’s attention with her dangerous words. The blonde goes red, and Catra laughs in spite of her nerves.

What if she was telling the truth, though? If this wasn’t real…? After all, Adora was a terrible liar, for a lawyer.

“Thank you… again,” Adora says serenely. “I owe you more... for all this time apart.”

Catra’s chest is pounding. She’ll find out if there’s any subtext to that if it kills her. It probably will if Adora’s generous arms and pretty smile are going to be in her face the whole time.

“Anytime, Adora. I missed you… uh, happy with these?” Catra swallows and points to her outfit. 

“More than happy.” Adora smiles and looks at her neck through cool blue eyes that turn Catra to stone. “The tux brings out your shoulders.”

Blood settles in Catra’s cheeks, keeping her freckles warm until they’ve finished paying for their expensive clothes and walk out hand-in-hand (for practice, of course) feeling like royalty, to face not only the cold but the greatest threat to Adora’s budding law career: a highly publicized social gathering. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


“What’s the charity for?” Catra asks as she closes the door to Adora’s car and cracks her knuckles.

Before them lies a banquet hall, which from the outside seems like an eerie monument to modernity, too old-fashioned for the coming of the new year. Three stories of beige stone are warmed by the orange glow of street-lamps, and a banner draped across the highest level’s windows celebrates the Horde Law Foundation’s decision to host a charity gala.

“Orphans,” Adora says. She hated talking about work and was starting to understand why - now that she was back around Catra. “For some reason, Hordak thinks Christmas means orphans. He’s, like, Victorian or something. It’s an excuse to fill the required holiday staff party and good free press for the company.”

“Fun. Bea gonna be there?”

“Yep,” Adora says, with a sorry smile on her face.

Catra sighs. “Fun…” 

Adora recognizes the frustration and suddenly slips her hand into hers. 

“It’s okay. She’s getting better…” She offers, and Catra looks up, subtly, into her eyes, before scoffing quietly. “Yeah, I know. But she’s not exactly the mingling type anyway. After the meal, we’ll hole up by the snacks and… reminisce?”

Catra nods, regaining some of her usual moxie, and it warms Adora’s heart. Catra puts on a cocky smile and swallows; Adora is struck by how familiar this all seems. Taking on the world together, through all its twists and turns - she remembers their promise to each other well but hesitates to bring it up. Life had taken them in separate directions, yet now here they were.

It puts fire in Adora’s blood and, at last, it feels like she’s ready to live.

“I got you something.” Adora roots around her purse while Catra crosses her arms in what Adora _knows_ is an obvious move to hide her excitement. “Ta-da!”

Adora pulls out a pair of fuzzy brown reindeer horns with adorable floppy ears attached and Catra’s sour face is to die for.

“This’ll cost you extra,” She pouts but doesn’t stop her from settling the headband around her ears, much to Adora’s surprise. 

Adora keeps her arms on Catra’s shoulders, finding herself drawn to sapphire-gold eyes that didn’t know where to look. They settle on Adora’s neckline, who pretends she doesn’t notice, distracted by flicking the bouncy horns atop her head. 

“Cute,” Adora says, and Catra’s embarrassed smile shines back at her.

“Alright, alright, save some for the audience. Let’s go kick this party’s ass.” 

Catra puts her arm in Adora’s and the two head towards the usher, who takes their names and coats. He leads them through the doors and into a more comfortable temperature that only puts Adora more on edge as they reach the point of no return. 

They traverse a minimalist corridor, up some stairs, and enter the gala, taking place in an expansive and all-together too-populated white hall drowning in tinsel. Cloth-decorated long tables cling to the corners of the room, covered in appetizers and flutes of sparkling drinks. 

Tall windows flank a balcony entrance where faint stars peer through. Smaller, six-person tables cluster around a stage and a dancefloor at the far end. A band warms up with listless holiday music as new entrants keep funneling in, black-ties and cold tones making Adora feel underdressed. Cameras flash as laughter travels between the different groups of the room.

Adora unhooks her arm from Catra’s and holds her hand tight instead, growing more anxious with each new face she doesn’t recognize. There must have been hundreds… were all of them really related to the company? Maybe Hordak wasn’t as much of a Scrooge as she thought, or maybe he just had too many friends in high places to please.

Catra squeezes her hand, encouraging her to breathe, and Adora shows her she is doing exactly that. Her lifeline, like when she hit her bike against someone’s car and they came at her all storm and fury, there Catra was, more intimidating than any adult with her scrappy knees and unflinching eyes, clutching her hand in brave defiance.

With her help, Adora’s adrenaline dies down, and Catra nods before letting her lead the way. 

* * *

  
  


“Oh, boy.” Catra tugs at her collar and takes a big sip of her drink.

“What?” Adora asks and then follows Catra’s eyes to the list of people who are seated with them for the duration of the meal. 

Hordak, Beatrix, and Entrapta. About as bad as could be expected, except for the mystery third.

“Who’s Entrapta?”

Adora laughs. “Our I.T specialist. Always knew he had a crush on her but… wow, to get her seated next to him… that’s a bit much.” 

“Gross.” 

“Yeah… please don’t roast my boss to his face, though. He’s got a short temper.” 

Catra doesn’t understand the company Adora chooses to keep. Money makes sense, but what was it worth if the people around you were… 

Catra messes with her hair and swallows the thought. She’d moved past this, long ago. It had torn her up so intensely she thought herself never to recover, but with time, the help of her friends, and good old fashioned therapy, she had learned to accept Adora’s decision. 

Now was her chance to see how far she had come, and if anything really real could sprout from this magical opportunity.

They take their seats and await destiny, which comes in the shadowy shape of long black hair and blood-red robes. Beatrix, with a smooth face that time seemed afraid to touch, arrives first. She doesn’t look much different from how Catra remembers, despite the decade or so past; crows feet barely cling to her astute green eyes, while dark eyebrows and sharp ears hint at danger.

“Hello, girls.” Her voice is liquid-smooth. “Catra, my, how lovely to see you again.” She hugs Adora and takes Catra’s hand in a surprisingly warm gesture. “It’s like a wintertime reunion, no? As if we have found ourselves in one of those insufferable holiday films.”

“Hi, Bea,” Catra says, feeling all the words she had once stored for her evaporate. 

It wouldn’t do to accost her for her controlling ways--for all the times she had deemed Adora _this_ and Catra _that_ \--on Adora’s special night. Seeing her again is off-putting, but much easier than she had imagined it would be. They sit, and Catra resorts to small-talk: 

“How have you been?” 

“Very well, thank you. Due mostly to our star player here.” She nods to Adora, leans back on her arms with a cocky grin. “Her meteoric rise is something to behold. Truly, it is no wonder you have pursued her after all this time.” 

Beatrix’s lips curl and Catra remembers the act. The reason - the only reason - she is here. It tastes bitter, through her, in her deceptively sweet voice. It’s almost like she knows.

“Yeah, well, you know me, Bea… persistent.” Catra scratches the back of her head and Adora’s arm settles on her leg reassuringly. 

“Indeed. I am glad to see you together again, in fact. There is a sparkle to Adora’s eyes I have greatly missed. A shine that doubtless would not have been, had she been accompanied by any of the candidates I had selected. And you, Catra? What do you do?” 

“I, uh, play in a band.” 

“Of course you do.” Beatrix appears to swallow razor blades as she attempts a friendlier mode of human communication. “What do you play?” 

“Bass. Vocals, sometimes. It’s... more of a side thing. I babysit, too, and work on cars. Lotta old batteries freeze up and need changing in the winter.”

“Quite a repertoire of skills. Nothing steady?” 

“I get by… with a little help from my friends.” Catra kicks Adora under the table who smiles to herself. 

Beatrix seems content with her confidence and raises a glass to the three of them, reunited, as the head honcho, Hordak, steps into view. 

He wears a smart black three-piece suit, unbuttoned at the top and complimentary of his broad shoulders. The crowds part before him and he offers false smiles to every attendee. His dark blue hair is slicked over, with trimmed sides and fierce red eyes that make him look ten times younger. His angular face turns to them and a spark of relief wipes the arrogance from his visage as he sits down. 

“Beatrix. Adora. And you must be Catra?” His bold voice cuts through the hubbub - clearly experienced in these sorts of affairs. He offers a hand. 

“The one and only.” She shakes his hand with a firmness she hopes he remembers, and he smiles at her. “Nice to meet you.” 

“I hope you’ve come hungry, we have chefs of no small repute offering us their services tonight.” He looks over at the one empty seat remaining by his side and addresses Beatrix. “She has received the memo, yes?” 

“You take me for an intern on her first day? Of course. Perhaps she has been waylaid.” 

Catra grows a kind of begrudging respect for Beatrix. Being willing to talk to her boss like that, unwilling to take his shit; it reminded her of herself. Hordak nods, almost apologetically, and keeps his eyes on the doors as people take their seats and the band starts up proper with a funky rendition of ‘jingle bells’. 

In perfect time, the servers come out, dishing out silver plates of exquisite food crafted with the utmost care and to the wishes of each table. With them come Christmas crackers, and Beatrix wastes no time in extending an olive branch.

“Pull my cracker, Catra.”

“I’d really rather not.”

“I _insist_.” 

Adora nudges Catra. Catra reluctantly pulls Beatrix’s cracker and, with a pop, wins the bounty: a red paper crown, a tiny plastic jumping frog, and what’s sure to be a killer joke on a small scrap of paper. 

“Here you go, princess.” Catra carefully places the crown on Adora’s head, who blushes at how well she plays the part.

“Well done,” Beatrix says. “Now, tell me your joke.” 

Catra scans the tiny piece of paper and her face scrunches up as if in pain.

“What do reindeer have that no other animals have?” 

Silence. No one offers any suggestions.

“Baby reindeer.” 

Another silence, a million times more awkward than the first. Adora gives a nervous fake laugh while Hordak makes a ‘not bad’ face and everything sucks.

“Most amusing,” Beatrix says in a tone decidedly not amused. 

Hordak suddenly stands up and moves a waiter out of the way. A short woman with big purple pigtails invades the space of each table, dissecting its occupants for information on where she’s stationed. Hordak doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, at first waving her over and then, upon realizing she hasn’t noticed him, cupping his hands around his mouth and yelling:

“Entrapta!” 

The entire hall seems to look at him as a break in the music hits, but she sees him, and, waving her arms, returns, at the same volume:

“Hordak!” 

Catra and Adora watch them greet and it’s quite charming to see Hordak break into a genuine smile. He pulls her chair out for her and opens her dish - some kind of miniaturized creme brulee, more suited for dessert than main, and watches her frown.

“Something wrong?” He asks. “Is it not to your specifications?” 

“No, no, it’s fine, it’s just...” Entrapta strokes one of her pigtails with both hands. “It _could_ be smaller.” 

Hordak sniffs and, ignoring Entrapta’s protests, picks up the dish and heads to the kitchen. A minute later, enough for Entrapta to get acquainted with the others who wait patiently for Hordak’s return before digging in, he comes back.

There’s a speck on his cheek of what Catra hopes but somehow doubts is ketchup, as well as a satisfied smile on his face as he reopens the dish. The food inside is a little smaller.

“Perfect!” Entrapta beams, wiping the red from his face with a napkin as if this isn’t the first time this has happened. “Sorry I’m so late party people, I was… uh, _backing up those files_ …” 

Hordak laughs zealously at whatever hidden meaning lay behind her robotic voice, and Catra looks to Adora for an explanation but the blonde is too busy with her steak and seemingly too used to these bizarre dynamics to take any notice. 

Catra joins her and has never tasted fish so good in her life. Everybody shuts up to enjoy the food, which buys Catra time to enjoy observing Adora’s appetite. She is relentless, throwing all sense of decorum out of the window for the sake of maximizing how much she can put away. And mere hours ago _she_ was bugging _her_ about remembering to use knives and forks.

They pick at each others’ food and it’s easy to forget the strangers at their table, drawn to the lifelong warmth that circulated between them. The sparkling wine goes to Catra’s head and she rests her hand on Adora’s, who leans back on a bellyful of food, content. Adora strokes her fingers and admires her jet black nails. 

Then, her eyes widen, but she doesn’t withdraw.

The band kicks it up a notch and the music suddenly becomes electric. The room darkens as a rainbow of lights illuminates the stage and the dance-floor glows. ‘I Wish it Could Be Christmas Every Day’ starts up and newfound energy draws brave dancers in. 

“Do you... wanna dance?” Adora asks, and Catra’s wide smirk is unsettling.

  
  


* * *

Why did Adora suggest this? 

She’s a terrible dancer and yet, something about Catra fills her with confidence. Like it doesn’t matter if she can’t dance, because, with her, she’s safe, appreciated, made whole. 

Catra molds her like clay, an experienced dancer who takes the lead with no shortage of enthusiasm. Adora trusts in her for every turn, every dip and twirl until it almost looks like she knows what she’s doing. 

And, when it becomes too much - because if Adora’s being honest with herself she did go full-on at that steak - they slow down and simply sway.

A red light puts a glint in Catra’s eyes and Adora loses track of the song, of everything but the dreamlike image in front of her. She’s smiling her warmest smile, the one that nobody else had the privilege of seeing, with sharp teeth just barely poking out from behind her lips.

Adora feels seen: the smile is for her. 

Following the path laid out before her had been so easy, but it had left her empty. She never considered herself to have many choices, considering Beatrix’s rigid guidance, but there was something more powerful than all the work she had put in for other people wrapped up right here in her arms.

“You never told me you were so bad at this.” Catra touches Adora’s nose. “We coulda practiced.” 

Adora can feel her heartbeat. There’s something she wants here but isn’t sure she deserves.

“How long are you gonna be in town for?”

Catra starts at the question. Perhaps she can feel it too. 

“Couple of days, but... I don’t think that’s long enough to teach you how to dance.” 

Catra looks at her as if she’s asked a question, not jabbed at her with a thinly-veiled insult. Adora laughs in agreement. She needs more than that.

“Not with footwork like this.” Adora looks down at her clunky feet and rests her head against Catra’s shoulder, which stills them both. “Good thing there’s no courtroom dance-off with defendants. I’d be screwed.” 

Catra laughs and Adora loves the sound in her ear. She feels her hair brushed aside and warm breath on her cheek.

“Put your feet on mine,” Catra says. Adora does so and instantly hears Catra straining. “Oh my god, you’re way heavier than I remember.” 

“Mm-hm. And you’re just as romantic.” 

Adora lifts her head and her arms go higher. She finds Catra staring at her lips, while _her_ arms go lower. Catra’s hands settle on her hips, and there’s a spark as their bodies touch, brought together by forces unknown but long overdue. 

Adora holds her breath while Catra is, as always, unafraid of what might come next. 

A flash from a camera blindsides them both. They see Entrapta and Hordak posing for the camerawoman, an arm around each others’ shoulders, while Beatrix watches on. 

Catra’s head is _really_ close. Adora steps back and takes her hands instead. Catra’s eyebrows soften sadly.

“Girls?” Beatrix calls. “A kiss for the camera?” 

“Wh - ”

“What?” They both stutter. 

Entrapta slips behind them, mistletoe in hand, and holds it above their heads. 

“A kiss,” Beatrix repeats. “For the website. Season’s greetings and whatnot.”

Adora stumbles over words while Catra scratches underneath her reindeer horns. The camerawoman locks them in her sights. Catra eyes pop, and the two of them share a pink hue.

“Wh - why? They didn’t kiss!” Adora indicates to Entrapta and Hordak. 

“We could,” Hordak suddenly chimes in, sweating.

“We won’t,” Entrapta confirms. 

“We won’t,” Hordak admits.

“It will bring in the New Year nicely.” Beatrix taps her slender fingers together. “Progressiveness is in. You will be the face of our company, before long. All from this humble beginning... this tender moment.” 

Catra’s eyebrows suddenly dig deep into a scowl. Adora looks between her and the rest of them, her breath quickening. She squeezes Catra’s hand.

Catra slips it free, lingering a moment with her fingers, and walks away without a word. Adora watches her go, her heart sinking into her stomach. As Beatrix approaches, she goes after her, wasting no breath in trying to explain anything. She follows Catra out to the chilly balcony, leaving the party people to their gossip.

  
  


* * *

It’s quiet outside. A few stragglers drink and smoke, providing they’re wrapped up warm enough to endure the cold. Catra is leaning against a railing overlooking a park as Adora comes up from behind her. 

“Hey,” Adora says carefully.

“Hey,” Catra turns slightly to see her and then looks back at the night. 

“So… wanna fill me in?” 

Catra sighs. There's a weight to it far too heavy to be relieved in one night.

“It’s still nothing to her.” 

Adora puts her back to the sky, finding something deep and honest in Catra’s one blue eye. 

“What is?” 

Catra hesitates. Her voice tires. 

“Us…? This. Being together. Like, I know it’s for your job but… there’s not even a _chance_ it could be real to her. It’s PR, it’s an excuse…”

_It’s real to me._

“When did you know you were gay?” Adora asks. 

The directness keeps Catra’s eyes on her. The air from her breath dances in the air as she rubs her hands together for warmth.

“Ah, uh… took me a while. Figuring it out wasn’t quick, but when I did… damn. It made sense. Everything did. And for her to just _use it_ like that…” Catra growls. “It held me back, not knowing for as long as I did.” 

“If anyone’s using you…” Adora’s eyes are downcast. 

“I wanted to help,” Catra says adamantly, tilting her head up gently. Adora keeps her hand there, relishes its kindness for a moment longer.

“Guarantee you it took me longer,” Adora suddenly says. 

Catra takes the challenge, licks her lips, and recalls a memory. She grins.

“Eighteen-ish. Band practice. Neighbors wanted me to shut up. I didn’t listen to the dude, but I did to his wife. She was fierce, wearing heels, and - I think they were about to go out, or something, because goddamn she smelled amazing. I couldn’t play anymore. Everyone was calling me a chicken but I just couldn’t stop thinking about her. I called it quits, googled some… things and, _voila_.” 

Catra gives Adora the jazz hands. 

“Ooh, so you like older women?” Adora asks with a sly smile, to which Catra just wiggles her eyebrows. “Alright. Get a load of this: _twenty-two_ , buying clothes to intern at this company, what do I see? A tight business blazer, black pencil skirt, and the _sexiest_ lady mannequin you’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“No,” Catra snorts. “You’re shitting me.” 

“Nope. I got the clothes off her back and couldn’t look.” Adora winks and fires her finger guns.

Laughter keeps them warm, but it's almost too much: Catra has to steady herself on Adora’s arm. Adora finds it infectious; she feels drunk off it, the joy of a true reunion.

“You absolute disaster…” Catra wipes a tear from her eye. “Think of how much more of an evolved lesbian you’d be if we’d stuck together.”

She scrunches her face like her words came out wrong, but they hang in the air and Adora’s smile fades.

“Catra, I’m - ”

“Don’t.” 

“I’m sorry I left.”

“It’s in the past. You had to.” 

“That’s the thing, though… I don’t think I did. I never asked for any of this…” Adora gestures to the park down below, and the moonlit building on which they now perched like contemplative ravens. “It just happened before I knew it. I never had the chance to figure out what I wanted. They told me I should want this.”

“And now?” Catra is hopeful, a lump in her throat.

Adora straightens her back and pulls Catra by the hand to face her.

“I missed you too. _So much_. I hate that it took this stupid party to remind me.” 

“It wasn’t all bad.” Catra rubs her thumb over Adora’s palm. “I liked the dance.” 

Adora smiles with tears in her eyes. 

“Do you maybe wanna go on... a real date?”

_This is it._

“Are you free New Years’ Eve?” 

_Please please, please_.

“I am now.” Catra winks and all Adora’s breath escapes as she falls into her arms.

Catra gazes into her eyes in wonderous appreciation and holds her tighter. She’s not about to let go anytime soon. Adora rubs her nose against her neck, giddy with excitement, and pulls back. Catra’s eyes are low, but bright as ever, flickering over every part of Adora with a half-relieved, all-divine joy. Adora is over the moon, feeling beautiful and utterly certain that she is in love as her chest pounds. 

The distance disappears, but, then, it was hardly ever there. Provoked by some kind of magical destiny, they intertwine. 

Their lips meet, intensely soft and welcoming of each other. Adora sees their last New Years', minus the spider, and hums happily. Catra tastes Adora’s smile (and a medium-rare sirloin) and melts against her delicate hands, while Catra’s run through familiar blonde hair, landing on her delightful shoulders, setting up camp for winter around her neck. 

When they stop, they remain close. Their orbit is warm as they sway to the muffled beat of Christmas party music. Catra doesn’t close her mouth just in case Adora isn’t finished. Adora gives her another quick smooch right on the lips, and then square on her forehead, ruffling the sides of her hair as she does so.

“Let’s get out of here.” Adora's smile is big and toothy, the dork Catra knows and loves. 

“We can do that? That’s an option?!”

“I know a karaoke place. You can sing for me.” 

“We can duet, you mean.”

“Not a chance.”

“Not asking.” 

“Let’s get our coats.” 

They all but sprint through the gala, catching a glimpse of Entrapta and Hordak attempting to dance - though it’s unclear who is teaching who - as well as Beatrix who sits alone with her wine. She doesn’t call after them, not that they would listen if she had. 

It’s freezing outside, but they’ve gone to each others’ heads, like children on Christmas Eve. It’s easy to push through the midnight winds, through the winding paths of a city made small by the presence of a long-lost friend. It’s not the first holiday they’ve spent together, and yet it feels like the start of a tradition; a new photo album to be flicked through by a fire, with the cocoa and kisses of loved ones to keep old flames alight.


End file.
